Because of indifference, one dies before one actually dies.

The night was gone. The morning star was shining in the sky. I too had become a completely different person. The student of the Talmud, the child that I was, had been consumed in the flames. There remained only a shape that looked like me. A dark flame had entered into my soul and devoured it.

I read the text; and then I come to the Shirat ha-Yam, to the Song of the Sea [Exodus 15], to the poetry. Who could have written such a poem except someone who went through it? It is so full of life, so full of truth, of passion, of concern. And the thousands and thousands of commentaries in the Talmudic tradition that have been written on it. It had to have happened. But even if not, I would attribute the same beauty to the text as I do now.

From the depths of the mirror, a corpse gazed back at me. The look in his eyes, as they stared into mine, has never left me.

You shouldn’t act as a spokesperson for someone who’s trying to impose his will on you.

I was 15, not 14, when I was inside there [Auschwitz], 15, and for me both were actually a surprise.

Human beings all change. Not what they are but who they are. We have the power to change what we do with our life and turn it into our destiny.